Shiver

“By the way, your father has called three times. I’m going downstairs. You can use my office to call him back. Consider that an order.”

Riley swore under his breath as the captain slammed the door behind him. Sometimes it didn’t pay to have a powerful father. He wondered how much his forced leave had to do with his old man, then pushed the thought out of his head. Tony had had the same idea earlier and if it’d been anyone else, Riley would probably even agree. Anyone with a loss of this magnitude should take their three days, but the worst part was having his case ripped out from under him.

Surreptitiously, he watched Miss Morgan. Three days of mandatory leave—three days to get that woman to crack. He raked a hand through his hair. Three days to get the answers he needed for his brother, Mac, and his old man.

A lead weight dropped to the pit of his stomach as he picked up the phone and dialed the ranch. “Hey, LuAnn,” he said when his stepmom answered the phone. “How’s Dad?”

“Devastated like the rest of us, but he’ll be glad to hear from you. Hold on, hon, and I’ll get him for you.”

Riley waited, not sure what to expect from his dad and not able to take his eyes off the enigma of a woman sitting at his desk. He was going to make it his priority to find out everything about her that he could and flush out whatever she was hiding from him.

He watched Tony bring her a cup of water. She nodded, thanking him, a trace of a smile touching her face. As she sipped the water, a hint of moisture wet her seductive lips. She turned, her melting blue eyes meeting his through the glass. Awareness rushed through him, hot and thick, making him cringe.

He was going to take her down.

“Hey, Son.” His father’s voice sounded dull through the receiver.

Riley turned away from the glass. “Hey, Dad.”

“When you coming home?”

“Soon.”

“Good, ’cause we all need to be here right now to support your brother. He’s taking it real hard.”

Guilt slithered through him. “Yeah, I suppose he is.”

“He has a lot of unanswered questions. We’re hoping you can fill him in.”

“I don’t have a lot of answers right now. If I’d known what Michelle had been planning… I didn’t know she’d try to draw this guy out alone, Dad.”

“We know you didn’t, Son. No one blames you.”

Riley knew that, but he could still hear the quiet disappointment in his old man’s voice, disappointment that had been festering for eighteen years. And now he had Michelle to account for, too. A heavy weight pressed against his chest.

“Who knows what she was thinking?”

“She wanted to nail the SOB that had been cutting up women in the Quarter. Only she hadn’t been prepared for a new monster…a different monster. I’m going to find her killer, Dad. I promise,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

“I know you will, Son. I know you won’t let us down.”

No, not again I won’t.

Riley ground his teeth with frustration as he hung up the phone. He took a deep breath, steeling his emotions as he watched Miss Morgan talking with Pat and Tony. There she was, playing the demure little kitten again, but it wasn’t as convincing without her big blue eyes directed his way. Now he could easily see through her little game. Her shifty little glances kept giving her away.

He left the office and approached them. “Come on, Miss Morgan. I’ll take you home.”

“Why don’t you let me do that,” Pat said, rising. “You go home to your family.” He stood possessively over her, his chest puffing up like a peacock’s.

Made Riley want to spit. “That’s quite all right, Pat. Thanks for the concern and the offer.” He dropped the good-ole-boy smile and pierced him with a cold stare. “Miss Morgan and I have some unfinished business. I’m sure you understand.”

Pat held his gaze for a moment, then looked away.

Riley turned back to Devra. She was staring at him, her fear shining like a beacon in her luminous eyes. Yeah, she was good—he took her by the arm and led her away—but he was better.

DEVRA STARED OUT of the Expedition’s window, pushing loose tendrils of hair back into their clip. Everything in its place, her mother used to say. Thankfully, the detective hadn’t muttered a word since they left the station. As he stopped in front of her house, she hopped out of the car and all but ran toward her door. Dark storm clouds raced across the sky. Electricity sparked the hairs on the back of her neck. Either that, or it was the detective’s close proximity as he followed behind her.

“Mind if I come in for a minute?” he asked when she stopped to unlock the door.

She turned, looking up into his dark brown eyes. They looked…tormented. She pushed back the compassion rising within her. “I can’t imagine what else we have to say to each other.”

“I have something I’d like to say.”

She cringed at the plea in his voice, at the pain clearly etched in his eyes. She could feel his anguish. A part of her wanted to help him. But she couldn’t. To do that, she’d have to trust him with her secrets, and trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

She turned away from him and waited, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t leave. She took a deep breath, knowing it was a mistake even as the words left her mouth. “All right, but only for a minute.” She’d listen, but she wouldn’t help him—that would cost her too much. She opened the door and they walked in.

Inside, the house was hot and heavy with humidity, but it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as his presence behind her. She set the ceiling fan in motion and watched the wide wooden paddles spin, circulating a gentle breeze.

The detective stood just inside her living room, studying her. She could feel his gaze on her exposed skin, hot and demanding. He made her nervous and jittery, but there was something else, too. An emptiness and longing for something she couldn’t quite name. The need left her restless and shaken.

As the first drops fell, she opened the windows, letting in the thick smell of ozone as the rain battered the white petals of the gardenias outside. She loved the rain, loved the calming sensation that came over her as the water cleansed the earth, washing away the dirt and grime. “What was it you wanted to say, Detective?” she asked while watching a bird bathe in the sudden shower.

“I’d like to ask you a question.”

“All right.”

“What’s with the getup?”

She turned to him. “I’m sorry?”

“The schoolmarm imitation?”

Stunned, she could only stare. “Is that a professional question?”

“Doesn’t your hair hurt being yanked back so severely it pulls at the corners of your eyes?”

She walked toward him, refusing to let him intimidate her. She’d made it through the hard part, she’d made it past his captain. He was off the case and he was blowing off steam, acting like a petulant boy in the throws of a temper tantrum.

“Do you really need glasses? And what was with the Poor-Little-Miss-Timid routine at the station, when we both know you’re anything but?”

Her fists tightened at her sides and she glared at him. How could she have considered helping him, even for a second?

His hardened jaw eased into a cocky smile.

“You have no right to talk to me that way.”

“I have every right. You know more than you’re telling.”